Good-bye Dreams
by Ellie Lildat
Summary: Buffy POV, after End of Days. B/A (How could I skip this generic opertunity?)


Author: Ellie Lildat  
Disclaimer: Did I say I owned them?  
Summery: Buffy's POV, after the End of Days (B/A, but his names never mentioned... don't ask why)  
Rating: a safety net of PG-13  
AN: I had three itches tonight, and I stratched two. Not bad. This kinda stuff tends to frighten me, but this turned out better than Visiting The Hero's Haven. And I'm getting even more frightened about my Joss influenced twisting. I've been watching HIS stuff too much lately. Enjoy, or not.  
Feedback: Tell me, like...dislike? Comments, Questions? Nekkid Angels?  
  
  
Title:** Good-bye Dreams  
  
  
**  
We never say good-bye.  
  
And as you walk with your limp away from me, fading in the fog like so many times before, I once again know why.  
  
If I were a innocent and unknowing little girl, I would hope that it was because we'll meet again, we'll be together once again- make that forever I dreamt about for so long. Because we never say good-bye...  
  
But I'm not that kind of girl.  
  
With every step you take, walking with pain in your leg and heart, I feel another blow to my own.   
  
It's over, everyone keeps shouting that over and over... but it's not about us, is it? They're talking about the war, the one we fought side-by-side as foretold, fighting the spawn of hell that was finally release to come upon the world. It's over, no more demons that kill because it's their nature... but the humans that do the same remain.  
  
Did we truly win? Is this a victory in any sense? The demons are gone, but we didn't have anything to do with that... chance, higher powers, some reason we weren't a part of- or if we were, I sure don't know how. But it's over, as they say, and that's a good reason to celebrate, isn't it?  
  
But let's not forget, how you did happen to walk away and into a demon-less world... humanity granted, like credit, don't you think? Came into the fight as a demon with a soul, and left as a injured human... not quite an equal exchange in my eyes, but they don't quite work the way they did.  
  
Yet once the war ended, when it was silent for the first time in years, I don't remember what happened then. The blood on my chest and the dust in my hair was all I could feel, hear, see, and touch for hours on end. I was buried remember? Deep under the rubble that had once been Sunnydale City Hall, surviving on an air pocket and a lack of super strength. That was what I remember of this new world we live in.  
  
But my second memory, that's the one I wish I didn't have anymore. The one where you knew where I was, dug for hours until I finally saw your dirt and blood smudged face through the dust, and everything went black again. I almost died, like I've almost done a trillion times, but you were there this time.   
  
Why?  
  
It was days later, or so I hear, that I woke to find myself in my old tent again, thinking the horrible nightmare was nothing more. But then I felt the dream begin, where I'm not alone and the perfect life ensues... and I curl up in a fetal position and just cried for hours.  
  
We all lived, in some way or another- you in even more. A few scars here and a few stitches there, no problem right? But I don't have those injuries like everyone else, I'm perfectly fine looking, not a speck of dust in my hair anymore and no sign that I ever bled. I thought I was no longer the slayer, but I guess I was wrong. And I choked as I shared this with you, as I do everything, and that was when you looked away... reminding me to touch my neck, feel the ridges of skin that Spike tried hard to remove when not even death could erase the scar. It's not that I'm still your's though, it's that you're still mine.  
  
I was sick from battle memories for a week, unable to eat or drink a thing that you didn't force down my throat first, but you continued to save me. And at night when I'd lay still and hope to die of exposure from the dark chill that always came, you'd wrap yourself around me, and stop the thought from rising again.  
  
Why did you do it?  
  
When I was finally well again, on that final night, I turned to you as we laid together on the same large blanket that at one time was in the linen closet at my mother's house. I turned, making it so your arm that had once been resting on my belly was now on my hip, and our legs twined unconsciously together like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was then, that I looked in your eyes, and you looked in mine, seeing that this could never continue... that we were never ones to play house for too long, we were bound to leave each other again.  
  
But that was what made me do it, let my tears run down my face and curve their paths as they reached my smiling lips, that was what made me kiss you. We both knew it, knew that you had to go and I had to stay. Yet, that happens a lot with us, and there has never been a time that we haven't consummated our relationship as a final act, shown our love in one way or another.   
  
Did we ever even truly break up?  
  
And as our kisses turned into a shedding of clothing and joining of bodies, we both wept for our love. It was wonderful. To be filled like that, and completed as I was with you, to be so utterly caught in a moment that we both became happy together again... and to think that we thought our first time had been about the moment.  
  
But it was hours later, when my mother's blanket was soiled and I laid with my head above your newly beating heart that reality returned to me.   
  
And that was it.  
  
So as I watch you walk away, waiting until you're a blot of black in a sea of gray. I can't help but smile through these tears that never seemed to stop falling down my face.  
  
Because I know that you're just going to get your car, and we're both leaving this town forever now that the war's over. Now I'll leave and it won't matter that I still have my powers, because I'll be with you and needed where ever we are. For the first time in our relationship, there will be no need to play house in our minds.   
  
Because it'll be real.  
  
Our home will be a black covertable, not that Victorian from pre-pubescent fantasies ; our union will be legal, by judge and not the priest you once dreamt of; and most importantly: our hearts will be full.  
  
Who needs dreams of houses, white dresses, and cuddling in a giant bed?  
  
Dreams aren't real, but our love will be forever.


End file.
